


The kids aren't all right.

by PredictablePisces



Category: Original Work, TheHeroes
Genre: College, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, OC is tired, Social Media, Superheroes, and other tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PredictablePisces/pseuds/PredictablePisces
Summary: The Sentinel is tired. She has been a Hero for most of her life, and now she just wants out. And getting out was surprisingly easy. Staying out, however, is proving to be more of a challenge.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Finals Week

[Report #1 Finals]

New Message December 4 2:41 AM

From: thesentinel1@gmail.com

To: go-off-girls@gmail.com CC BC

Subject: I. Hate. You. 

To whom it may concern,

One week. 

Four exams. 

Three papers. 

Two group presentations. 

Twelve cases of C4. 

Too many cups of coffee to count. 

And one monster to kill. 

Now, you might be asking yourselves: how does someone get their hands on twelve cases of C4 without ending up on every watch list ever created and their house raided by the FBI?

And that is a very reasonable question. The answer to that question is that I, the person who received twelve cases of C4, have some friends that like playing practical jokes. Despite the amount of blackmail that I may or may not have on them. (Which, believe me, is enough to fill several hard drives.)

You see, I have a nasty monster on my hands. The kind that I don’t have time for right now. It’s big, slimy, possibly spits acid, and really likes eating people. But it’s also finals week, so I need to spend my time studying and not tracking this thing down, drawing it out of its little hidey-hole, fighting it, then disposing of the body where it won’t fester in the streets and spread god-knows-what kinds of diseases among the good people of Barstone. (The university already has a Chlamydia outbreak and is focused on making sure people use condoms instead of raw-dogging it. They don’t need another disease on their hands.)

So, naturally, the easy thing to do is to instead trap it in an empty field and use enough explosives to vaporize the overgrown slug so that I can get back to studying. Duh. 

But you see that would only work if I actually had in my possession _twelve cases of bombs._

Because instead of receiving twelve cases of _explosives_ yesterday via mail courier, I am now the _proud_ owner of twelve cases of cotton candy-flavored Cellucor C4 Original Carbonated Zero Sugar Energy Drink, Pre Workout Drink + Beta-Alanine. 

**I. Hate. You.**

Finals week starts tomorrow -well, today, actually- and I have to waste time tracking down and killing this human-eating, acid-spitting, giant slug... _thing_ with a sword. All because you fuckers could not respond normally to a plea from a friend asking for twelve cases of the kind of C4 that goes BOOM. 

I have evidence of what you assholes did in Honduras and I am not afraid to leak it.

This is a threat. 

Now. Send me twelve cases of the explosive kind of C4 for **free** at _my_ earliest convenience. 

I expect it in the morning… Well, later this morning. 

(Don’t even think about ignoring this email, I know all of your sleep schedules are worse than mine)

Have a great day!

The Sentinel

P.S. If you pull this again at least get a different flavor, the cotton candy is _disgusting_.

  
  


New Message December 4 2:56 AM

From: go-off-girls@gmail.com

To: thesentinel1@gmail.com CC BC

Subject: Re: I. Hate. You. 

Hello, Sentinel! 

You’re up early! Or maybe you still haven’t gone to bed! Are you getting enough sleep? It is so good to hear from you! How silly of us to send you C4 energy drinks instead of Composition C-4! We are so sorry, next time we will ask for clarification if we are confused by your request! 

You will get your product by 09:00! You will need to sign for the package! We have attached the tracking information to this email! 

As for the Honduras incident, we have no idea what you are talking about! We were there on vacation, and have no idea how that drug lord’s compound got destroyed or where his drugs went afterward. Your insinuation that we had something to do with it is very hurtful. 

We wish you luck on your finals and with your little slimy and acidic problem! 

Thank you for your business!

The Go Off Girls

1 Attachment: Tracking Number.pdf

P.S. Thanks for the hint about the flavors. Our coffee supply is running low and we decided to have you be our guinea pig because you’ll eat about anything. Which is gross. But commendable.

  
  


New Message December 4 3:11 AM

From: thesentinel1@gmail.com

To: go-off-girls@gmail.com CC BC

Subject: Re: Re: I. Hate. You. 

(See Previous Messages)

Was that so hard? You all use too many exclamation points for three in the morning. 

(I’m keeping the energy drinks.) 

Have a great day!

The Sentinel

P.S. Why am I not surprised about being your guinea pig? Next time just _ask_ , you maniacs. 

~

**Barstone Daily**

The Sentinel Does It Again! 

Published December 4, 4:27 PM

Earlier today, The Sentinel got in a slug match with the slug monster that has been terrorizing Barstone and the surrounding area for the past week. The local university students have taken to calling the creature Sluggy McSlugface, and it seems our semi-retired hero has taken up that nickname as well. She was heard goading the creature in an attempt to lure it to an empty field outside the city limits where she detonated explosives, efficiently destroying the creature. While the hero’s tactic worked, some fans were disappointed by the lack of close up combat. It is also mentionable that their Greatsword of the Forgotten, Lightspawn was noticeably absent during the attack. The Sentinel refused to answer any questions after the act, saying that she was late for something before shotgunning what looked to be an energy drink and speeding back to town. 

McSlugface is believed to be a creation of Dr. Richard Bloodworth’s, however, no one has seen the scientist in several years, and was believed to be dead. Recent evidence shows that he may still be… (Click to read more) 

~

The kid sitting next to me in the lecture hall kept sniffing and gagging as if I smelled like the inside of Sluggy McSlugface’s acidic, rotting innards. I mean, in his defense, I probably did. 

The suspense of seeing if the kid was going to actually throw up was distracting and I was debating telling him to move if the smell bothered him so I could get on with my exam. But as I opened my mouth I saw my professor glaring at me from over the top of his book. I snapped my mouth shut with an audible click of my teeth and tried focusing on the repercussions of the Treaty of Versaille on Western Europe despite my dry-heaving neighbor. 

When I got up to turn in my exam, I could sense the relief rolling off of the boy I had spent all semester sitting next to. I did manage to send an apologetic smile his way as I awkwardly side-shuffled past his legs to leave the row we were sitting in. While walking down the stairs, I inadvertently surveyed the room. It was a habit that had been drilled into me since I was a child. Four exits, two behind me, two in front. Forty people remained, give or take a few. Twenty had left during the time it had taken me to complete the exam, and the TA’s took a minute and a half to walk up and down the stairs splitting the rows watching for signs of cheating. While the habit had gotten me out of more scrapes than I even want to count, I had to keep reminding myself that I didn’t need to know the fastest exits out of every building I entered, or count how many students I had in each of my classes. I was out. I was safe… Well, kind of. 

My professor remained at the desk in the front of the room. The jacket of the historical non-fiction had slipped off the side slightly, showing a woman in a flowing ball gown draped across a muscled and glistening man on the cover. The title scrawled across the bottom declared _The Rakish Duke_. 

I set my exam booklet on the existing pile and in a low voice said, “Thanks for the semester, sir.”

He nodded in reply, not looking up from the text. 

“Good book, by the way. Have you gotten to the part where she slaps him yet?”

He raised his head in shock and I just winked and nodded to the jacket falling off the book. He grumbled an unwilling good luck on the rest of my finals and fixed the paper on the cover of the book. 

I only chuckled as I left the lecture hall through one of the side doors. My mind already moving on to the finals, papers, and presentations that I still had in store for the week. 

God, that week was easy compared to the shit storm that I’m wading through now. Even with the whiffs of Sluggy’s rotting remains sweeping through Barstone if the wind blew the right direction. 

Now that I had killed the monster I had one less thing to worry about, but the increasing amount of monsters that had seemed to appear in Barstone was concerning. I thought that when I retired and changed my identity the villains wouldn’t be able to find me. But after that giant spider showed up over the summer and the news found out that The Sentinel had killed it, I knew that I hadn’t done enough to get out of the hero game. 

I was tired of fighting. 

I _still am_. 

Tired of getting beat up by genetically modified creatures, AI’s turned or made evil, super-powered villains, everything. All I wanted is a normal life. I wanted to get my degree, learn how to pay my taxes, try to make friends, not kill any house plants, anything. Anything but fighting. 

Jesus, I was so naive. 

When I told Great Stride I was out, he had been surprisingly supportive. Saying that I had done more than my fair share of work and now it was time for a well-earned retirement. So I applied to Barstone University, chose International Relations as my major, and packed all of my worldly possessions into my shitty car, and moved into the dorms. Easily leaving the hero world behind. Or so I thought. 

Everything was great for the first year. I went to class, tried to make friends, joined some clubs, went to parties, and pretty much got the whole college experience. Then this summer happened. Go ahead and see the report about the spider to catch yourself up on that whole shit show. 

That’s when things really started going downhill, and that’s why I’m making these reports. They’re all filled with any correspondence and articles that I believe are relevant to what’s happening also with a summary of everything I can remember. I _have_ to keep track of everything that has happened so I can figure out what the hell is going on and stop it before it gets too bad. 

_Fuck_ , I just wanted a normal life. 

[Report #1 Ends]


	2. The Summer it all went to shit

[Report #2 The Summer It All Went To Shit]

Shake that ASS or kick ROCKS

4 Members 

Today 6:37 AM

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Hello, my lovelies! When and where 

are we meeting for tonight’s event???

Today 12:14 PM

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Al.

Wtf

What are you doing up before noon??

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Darling Lucy, some of us are not 

disaster-beings and wake up at a reasonable 

time. You really must try it one of these

days. 

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Oh jesus, I can hear the posh through text.

Why do we put up with you? 

**Bees? Bees.**

Luce, I hate to break it to you, but thinking

12 PM is early is not what people call

normal. 

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Belen Ortiz Soria. You are a traitor and

I am breaking up with you.

**Bees? Bees.**

No you aren’t, you love me too much 

**Lucky Lucy <3** ****

Shit you’re right, I do. 

**Me**

Jeep. 

Ford. 

Ram.

Bentley. 

You’re being an ass. I know for a fact

that you haven’t gone to bed yet. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

I’ll have you know, my dear that my

ass has nothing to do with this. 

Private Message

Today 12:20

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

You absolutely did not need to come at

me in the group chat like that. 

**Me**

Oh my god. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Also, I don’t want Luce to yell at me when

she finds out that I haven’t slept for

two? days. Maybe more. I’ve lost track.

**Me**

I will absolutely tell her. And I will

absolutely not feel bad when I do. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

If you tell Luce, I’ll have to tell her that you

ate the two-week-old lo mein in my fridge

yesterday. 

**Me**

Algerone Bentley. 

(Read 12:21)

**Me**

You wouldn’t dare. 

(Read 12:21)

Private Message

Today 12:25 

**Lucky Lucy <3**

YOU ATE BENTLEY’S TWO WEEK   
OLD LO MEIN?????

  
**Lucky Lucy <3**

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?   
DO WE NEED TO HAVE ANOTHER   
TALK ABOUT HEALTHY DIETARY   
HABITS?

**Me**

BENTLEY DOESN’T REMEMBER HOW  
LONG HE’S BEEN AWAKE FOR

**Lucky Lucy <3**

HOW ARE THE TWO OF YOU STILL ALIVE?

Private Message

Today 12:32

**Me**

You fucking traitor. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

That’s rich coming from you. Luce

is yelling at me now. 

**Me**

I’m friends with Benedict Arnold. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Oh, quit being so dramatic. I just acted before you

could. 

**Me**

Is this how Washington felt when he 

was betrayed? 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

All’s fair in love and war, my darling. 

(Read 12:34)

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Don’t ignore me. 

(Read 12:37) 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Oh, the silent treatment, is it? 

(Read 12:41) 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

My god, Murphy

(Read 12:43)

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Ughhhh, I apologize for betraying you. 

**Me**

Your words mean nothing to me, Algerone

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Would curry make it better? 

**Me**

… Yes

**Me**

And you have to endure Luce’s lecture with me. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Wouldn’t dream of doing it without you, 

Murph

xx

Shake that ASS or kick ROCKS

4 Members

Today 12:52

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Okay lecture at Murph’s and mine today at 3:30. 

Algerone. Your ass had better be there. 

Enforced nap time at 4, then wake up call at 6:15. 

Family dinner following and carpool to Joel’s 

bonfire by 7:30.

**Bees? Bees.**

Yes, ma’am!

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Good answer, xx

~

Mensaje Privado

**Corazón Mío**

Belen, look at these two idiots. 

(Imagen no pudo enviar)

**Corazón Mío**

They’re so stupid, I love them. 

**Me**

Querida, the picture didn’t send

**Corazón Mío**

Ah, shit. 

**Corazón Mío**

They’re napping. On the floor. 

**Corazón Mío**

And cuddling. 

(1 Mensaje borrado de **Corazón Mío** )

~

**The Sentinel is BACK!** (5 Minutes 24 Seconds)

1.2 M Views July 24

**4,214 Comments** **567K Likes** **803 Dislikes**

**Hero Lover**

She’s BACK! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

**ASDFGHJKL45678**

im so glad she’s out of retirement!!!!

**I_lub_GS** ****

The video is so shaky you can’t even see what’s happening

**Pro_D3bunk3r** ****

There’s no way this is real. Its too dark to even see anything lmao

**Na_Na**

Is that a spider??? Yikes! I’m glad I’m not a hero (SHUDDER)

**FVK-HEROES2**

HEROES ARE MENACES TO SOCIETY!!!! THEY HOLD THEIR ABILITIES 

OVER NORMAL PEOPLE AND KEEP US SUBJUGATED CLICK THE LINK FOR MORE INFO AND TO JOIN OUR CRUSADE (LINK)

**Waaaaay2goooo**

MAn! This dude is pressed ^^^^^^ Also, that thing looks like one of Dr. Dick’s sick little babies…. Isnt he dead?

~

Belen was nice enough to share a screenshot of her and Luce’s conversation during the enforced nap time, though I did see the end of a sexting conversation that I really did not need to read. I’m currently googling how to rinse my eyes with bleach without actually losing the ability to see. 

I’m assuming the deleted message at the end of the chat was more along the same lines because I had explained complained about the non-consensual porn I had been exposed to with the other texts to Belen. Loudly and at length. 

Joel’s bonfire was an actual nightmare though. I hate spiders. Hate them. And this thing was fucking huge. 

It started out well enough. Dumb college students only got dumber as the night and alcohol consumption went on, there was dancing, talking, jumping over the fire (in which I definitely did not partake in case Lucile asks or ever reads these reports). 

(But, Luce, if you ever do read these reports it's because A. I died a horrible, terrible death and you found them while you were throwing out my shit so you can turn my room into a yoga studio B. I finally got the balls to show them to you or C. You went through my computer and found these reports under the Big Tiddie Bitches file. Surprise Shawty! I’m The Sentinel. Please don’t kill me. Also, Bents double-dog dared me to jump over the fire, and I had to. So I could assert my dominance.)

I think it was around midnight when I finally realized something was wrong. It’s hard to describe how I knew, but the air changed. What had previously been an aura of drunken fun, had become dangerous in the space of a breath. Belen and Luce had disappeared, probably to make out in the trees somewhere. Bentley had gone to get another drink from a cooler and had gotten sidetracked with a group of guys from his rugby team across the fire from me. I was alone in a folding camping chair, definitely not watching Al and the way his broad shoulders moved as he gestured wildly and laughed with his teammates. There were about twenty people mingling in the light of the fire, and I could feel _something_ watching us. 

Joel had thrown another pallet on the fire, and the flames leapt into the sky, reflecting off of eight huge eyes hovering about eight feet high just inside the tree line. I’m grateful for three things that night. One: I was the designated driver, so my car was backed up to the edge of the fire with the trunk open. Two: Great Stride taught me to always have a gear bag ready if I went somewhere. And three: The nerds over at hero headquarters are really _really_ good at their jobs. 

No one noticed when I sprang out of my chair and snatched my go-bag from the back hatch. It’s hard to tote around a word renown sword without someone noticing, so at the beginning of school I invested in a second-hand fencing bag (and somehow picked up the sport as an unforeseen side effect. Which is a story for another report). 

In a pocket that was more duct-taped on instead of sewn was where I kept my suit. The brainiacs at HQ managed to design a small disk that was able to hold enough nanotech and carbon silk to make a suit if you didn’t already have yours on. With the handles of my bag in one hand and the disk in the other, I darted into the trees before the spider decided which of my friends it wanted as an appetizer. 

I slapped the disk to my chest and filaments of tech and carbon streamed out and over my clothes. The nerds are good, but it still takes about a minute for the suit to complete building. While the tech and carbon formed extra armor around my soft and squishy bits, I ripped open the zipper on the bag and dumped the contents onto the dark forest floor. Three fencing foils, an energy bar wrapper, my helmet, and the legendary Greatsword of the Forgotten, Lightspawn tumbled out. I shoved my helmet over my head, making sure all of my hair was out of the way as the visor schnicked down over my face. I whipped Lightspawn out of its sheath and the blade glowed a soft silver in the darkness. Becoming a helpful snack time beacon to daddy long legs, who must have skittered around the edge of the fire when it saw me separate from the herd. 

It was kind enough to wait until I was ready before it tried to eat me, but that’s where it’s manners started and ended. Spidey rushed at me on its back six legs, with the front two reaching forwards and its dripping mandibles snapping between them. 

Now. I really hate spiders.

I know I already said this, but I think it’s important to mention it again because it explains my next actions very well. 

I screamed. 

And ran. 

This thing was eight fucking feet tall, hairy, and drooling for a bite of me. Of course I fucking ran. 

And, I was out of practice. It had been over a year since my life was seriously in danger on a regular basis.

I also figured that the fire would kill this thing easier than me figuring out a way onto it’s back so I could stab its horrifying head. 

However, one thing did slip my mind when I ran back towards the bonfire. There were twenty people mingling and drinking where I wanted to burn Aragog like it was a woman falsely accused of witchcraft. (Again. Out. Of. Practice.)

The thought hit me just as I cleared the trees and I stopped immediately, however, the spider was not able to hit the breaks as efficiently as I was and managed to skid over me and into the middle of the party. As expected, it was greeted with screams from the crowd. This seemed to piss it off more as it rushed at me again. 

I did manage to kill the thing, not by using fire, unfortunately. It seemed that Dr. Dick’s new baby was made to be flame retardant. 

Yay. 

So, I did end up having to climb up its coarse hairy legs before I could stab Lightspawn between its head and abdomen. 

I still have fucking nightmares about the sound it’s the head made when it plopped to the dirt. 

I also barely managed not to puke when I slid off its body and right into its glowing green blood as I made for the woods again to peel off the suit and helmet so I could find my friends.

Belen and Lucile were nothing short of panicking when I got back to my car. And a boulder the size of my new spider friend dropped in my gut when I realized Al wasn’t there with them. I was focused on fighting and I hadn’t seen where he had gone. Immediately, my brain started running through the worst-case scenarios of what had happened to him. Aragog ate him while I was changing in the woods, or stepped on him while we were fighting, or he got trampled while people were escaping, or fell in the fire. 

Just as I was turning to survey the wreckage left behind from the battle I heard his voice calling my name from the woods. 

Belen shouted out that they had found me and he emerged looking as frazzled and scared as I felt. We packed into the car and I drove off as quickly as I could without running into the other cars around us. 

Apparently, Bentley had gone into the woods looking for me after he realized I wasn’t at the fire anymore, and the spider attacked before he could find me. He obviously thought the worst, as I had, but he and the girls demanded answers for where I had been. 

I had to _lie_ to my friends. 

And I hated it. 

I told them that while Bentley had left to grab a beer, a guy from one of my classes the semester before had started talking me up and invited me into the woods to… “continue our conversation”. 

While we were driving the last stretch back to Luce’s and my house, I pretended not to notice Bentley’s clenched jaw I saw in the flashes of the street lights. Instead, I focused on adding my thoughts on who Belen and Luce thought our mysterious savior was. Trying to push any suspicion away from myself. 

It wasn’t until I was in bed, ignoring the sound of Belen and Luce talking through the paper-thin walls that I remembered I left Lightspawn in the woods and would have a hell of a time sneaking out in the morning to go get it without waking Bentley who was sleeping on the couch. 

[Report #2 Ends]


	3. Parents' Weekend

[Report #3 Parents' Weekend]

2 Missed Calls From Unknown Number

1 Voicemail from Unknown Number

(Written Transcription of Voicemail From Great Stride)

(Transcribed by: The Sentinel)

“Sentinel, answer the phone. I know you still use this burner. Verification of the dates of the Parents Weekend at your university is required. I am attending and expect to know the necessary details about the events transpiring. Call me back. Other than that, how are your classes going? You never call! Have you made any friends? I can’t wait to see you next week!”

(Transcription Ends)

~

(Transcription of call between The Sentinel and Great Stride)

(Transcribed by: The Sentinel)

“Sentinel! You don’t text, you don’t call, I never hear from you anymore!” The voice on the line is too happy, too chipper. There is too much strategically placed emphasis to create anything but guilt in the recipient. And it’s working. 

“Strides, how did you get this phone number?” This voice is hiding their guilt, badly. It has been too long since they’ve called. College is busy. Hectic in a way that is hard to describe to your kind of dad over the phone. And even harder to explain just why you haven’t called, texted, or emailed him in eighteen months. 

“A year and a half, and that’s the first thing you say to me? How did you get this phone number? Not, hello Great Stride! It’s great to hear from you, the man who practically raised me. How are you? How has training the new recruits been going? I’ve missed you. I can’t wait until you come for Parents Weekend.” The meaning behind his words is clear. The purpose of this conversation is only for guilt, and damn it, it’s working. 

“Hello, Great Stride. It’s good to hear from you. How has training the new recruits been going? I’ve missed you. I can’t wait until you come for Parents Weekend? How did you get this phone number?” Though the guilt-tripping is working, The Sentinel’s reply is perfectly flat and devoid of emotion.

“Hello, Sentinel! Or should I call you Charlotte? It is so good to hear from you as well! Training has been going well, though none of the new kids are as good as you. I will be coming for the weekend, please verify the dates with me so I can ensure I arrive on time.” The reply is in the same dangerously chipper tone as before, though this time there is an undercurrent of affection running through the words. 

“Charlotte works for now. You’re a speeder, arriving late isn’t in your job description. And don’t worry about coming next weekend, it really isn’t a big deal. You didn’t come last year. You don’t need to come to this one.” 

“Charlotte, I was deep undercover last year, that’s why I couldn’t make it. And, that’s why I want to make it this year. I want to see the life you’ve created for yourself, meet your friends, see your campus, buy you a beer. You know, catch up.”

“I’m not old enough to drink.”

“You’re telling me that you don’t have a fake ID?” Dry astonishment is the best way to describe the tone the speeder uses when they ask this question. 

If there was security footage of this phone call, you’d be able to see the younger talker resolutely ignoring the Iowan ID that proudly states the name Grace Wentworth but has a picture of The Sentinel in the corner. 

“No. So really, there’s no reason for you to come. Really.” A pleading edge has appeared in The Sentinel’s voice, not unlike the tone of a child begging their parent not to do something embarrassing. 

Which is exactly what’s happening. 

“Sentinel. I’ve missed you. I’m coming. And no need to send the details. The Brains found the dates on your school’s website! See you next weekend!” The call ends, but not before a drawn-out groan is heard coming from The Sentinel.

(End Transcription)

~

**Songs to listen to when your weird dad? comes to parents weekend**

By: c.murph.its.okay 17 Followers 1hr 17mins

**Holding Out For a Hero**

Bonnie Tyler

**Fortunate Son**

Creedence Clearwater Revival

**Girls Just Want To Have Fun**

Cyndi Lauper

**Highway to Hell**

AC/DC

**Danger Zone**

Kenny Loggins

**Take It On The Run**

REO Speedwagon

**Everybody Wants To Rule The World**

Tears for Fears

**We’re Not Gonna Take It**

Twisted Sister

**Jump**

Van Halen

**Bat Out of Hell**

Meat Loaf

**Thunderstruck**

AC/DC

**Under Pressure**

Queen, David Bowie

**Break My Stride**

Matthew Wilder

**You’re The Voice**

John Farnham

**Kids In America**

Kim Wilde

**Hells Bells**

AC/DC

**Born in the U.S.A**

Bruce Springsteen

**Heroes**

David Bowie

~

Parents Weekend was… rough. That is pretty much the only way to describe your superhero mentor? Adoptive Dad? Descending on your university after not seeing him for close to two years. Especially until his phone call the week before, I hadn’t talked to him since I decided to quit hero-ing. It was a rough argument conversation, that included lots of yelling on both parts, breaking a door from slamming it shut on mine, and a hastily found assignment that would keep him from seeing me on his. 

That assignment was the undercover one he mentioned in the phone call we had. The mission had been to take down a sex trafficking ring, and in the fallout, Great Stride was forced to show his face to the media. I didn’t get all the details because I was firmly out of the loop by then, but it seemed to be a case of mistaken identity that was easily rectified by Strides taking off his mask and unintentionally causing the internet to break. 

This also gave me something fun and exciting to explain to Luce, Bentley, and Belen when Great Stride himself rang our doorbell Friday night before parents' weekend. He calmly introduced himself as Grant Smith, my adoptive father, and asked if he could treat us all to a nice dinner. Nobody seemed to notice that I was viscerally panicking as we ordered appetizers at Ace’s. And _Grant_ politely ignored the awestruck looks from my friends. Then dodging answering their questions after dinner. 

_When the fuck were you going to tell us that Great Stride was your dad?_

Never, Luce, if I could have gotten away with it, and he’s not my dad. He only adopted me. Nothing else. 

_I thought you said your parents are dead?_

Bentley, they are. Hence the adoption.

_So did he like, train you to be a hero?_

No. Belen, he’s only interested in training people who have the power to be heroes. (It hurt to tell the half-lie to my friends more than I thought it did. Though, he does only train people who have powers.) 

Their concern itched. It made my skin skitter and crawl, even after two years of being out of the game, I still wasn’t used to people actually caring about me or my mental well-being. The Heroes only care if you can scrape yourself off the pavement to fight again the next day, not if you wake up screaming from your nightmares. Or if your thoughts feel so heavy that on your days off you physically can’t get out of your bed. Or if you can't remember the last time you felt something. Or… Well, I could go on and on. 

The next day, _Grant_ forced asked me to give him a tour of the campus. The entire time he directed probing questions at me ranging from faux interest in my personal life to genuine leads on the monsters and villains that I was fighting on almost a weekly basis. 

_How is school going?_

Fine, I guess. My classes- 

_Do you think Bloodworth sent that spider after you?_

It’s my only solid lead. He’s supposed to be dead, but there isn’t anyone else in the database that could create something like that. It can’t be a newcomer because someone would have noticed them by now. 

_Are you dating that Algerone kid?_

No, I wanted to focus on- 

_What happened with that AI that tried to ransom the University’s information?_

I stopped it. What else do you need to know? The media already got ahold of everything that happened that day. 

You know, the normal catching up questions between a “father” and “daughter”. 

_Grant_ got way too into the football game that evening, even though and unsurprisingly Barstone lost (Our guys have a worse record than the Jets). But graciously bowed out before the bar-hopping could start, saying that he had to get an early start in the morning because he didn’t want to be late for a meeting.

It was comforting that he hadn’t gotten any better at lying. Not even superheroes have work meetings on Sundays. Only weekend “emergencies” that keep you from ever watching the plays or soccer games that your daughter is in. 

The most surprising thing about that weekend is that nothing came. No monsters. No evil scientists. No AI’s. Nothing. And I didn’t get to enjoy it because I was too mad at _Grant._

[Report #3 Ends]


	4. My Friends Find Out About The Fan Fiction

[Report #4 My Friends Find Out About The Fanfiction]

You searched for: TheHeroes sort by: best match descending

**106384 Found**

**My Hero** by  **AKnightSoLoney**

TheHeroes 

**Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings,** The Sentinel/Original Male Character, Great Stride, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Some Angst, Please I don’t know what I’m doing, I just want her to be happy

The Sentinel has found someone worth fighting for, and no one is going to stop her from getting what she wants. Not even Great Stride. 

Language: English Words: 1,258 Chapters: 1/1 Kudos: 14 Hits: 367 

**Yes, she’s strong, but she’s exhausted** by  **bubbleboot**

TheHeroes 

**Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings ,** The Sentinel/Iron Champion, Great Stride, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, if you squint, Mental health issues, Friendship/love, Confessions, I was emotional about Sentinel’s retirement(?), So this happened, sorry not sorry, you get to cry with me, Champion and Sentinel are in Love, you cannot tell me otherwise

The Sentinel is gone. No one knows where she is. No one except for Iron Champion and Great Stride is furious. Champion refuses to tell him where she went. She’s been fighting for so long. She deserves a break, why can’t Great Stride see that? Why can’t the world see that? Why couldn’t _he_ see that? She’s gone. With only a note telling him that she’s done. That she’s tired. And not to look for her. Champion has never been good at following orders, but he’ll follow this one, even though it hurts the most. 

Language: English Words: 4,567 Chapters: 3/3 Kudos: 45 Hits: 2,134

**Just Another Day** by  **elllloooooloverly**

TheHeroes 

**Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings ,** The Sentinel, Great Stride, Iron Champion, Thunder Hawk, Deadnite, The Heroes Fluff, Crack, I had so much fun writing this, just them being idiots, and Great Stride tired of their shit

Just a compilation of crack one shots of The Heroes being idiots, and causing Great Stride to lose several years off his life. My tumblr is ellloooooloverly if you want to come say hi!

Language: English Words: 30,475 Chapters: 32/? Kudos: 347 Hits: 9,280 

~

(Security footage ~~legally~~ obtained from Barstone University Library, timestamp 12:42 AM, March 23)

(Transcribed by: The Sentinel) 

A private study room is littered with pieces of paper, candy wrappers, crushed energy drink cans, and four students. If this footage is rewound, you can see the students have been there for at least six hours. And in that time it seems very little studying has actually gotten done. As of right now, one student is asleep with his face in the crease of what looks to be a theory book to international relations (Bentley). One is on her phone taking a fifteen-minute study break that has lasted for almost an hour (Luce). Another seems to have been reading the same page for thirty-two minutes out of her own copy of the theory book that the boy is asleep on (Me...duh). And the last is diligently taking notes out of a geology book (Belen). 

The only noise in the room is the YouTube stream “lofi hip hop radio - beats to relax/study to” and the occasional complaint of boredom from one of the students. However, the near silence is shattered by Luce squawking, “Holy fuck! I just found Sentinel fanfiction.” 

Then, three things happen all at once. 

Bentley jerks awake at the noise, nearly falling out of his chair. 

I gasp out a strangled, “Jesus Christ.”

And Belen curses in Spanish as she accidentally knocks over a cup of coffee on the table. 

“Why am I just now finding this? I have been on this earth for almost twenty-one years, and I am only just finding Heroes fan fiction.” Luce sounds indignant, like one of us kept her from finding out about a not so niche area of online fiction. 

“I don’t think you were looking hard enough,” Bentley’s accented voice is raspy and full of sleep, “If you spent the same amount of energy studying as you do looking for sub-par literature about superheroes, you might already be a doctor.” 

“And, if you stayed awake long enough to actually read your textbook, you might already be an ambassador.” Luce shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him. 

They continue to bicker and Belen rolls her eyes as she tries to mop up the cold coffee that she spilled on the table. 

I am enthralled by Luce’s phone, scrolling through the sub-par literature about me and the people I grew up with. 

“Oh come on, they are giving Iron Champion way too much credit in some of these,” I say under my breath, but my friends still hear it. 

All activity in the room stills. Belen is laser focused on me. Bentley and Luce stop their mock argument. And even the music buffers slightly. 

“Lottie, love, how do you know that they are giving Iron Champion too much credit?” Algerone asks slowly, “Do you… know him?”

“No… I mean. Like not really?” Even in the recording, I don’t sound convincing, but to be fair I was 2 cups of coffee, 3 cans of monster deep and once again running on 5 hours of sleep in the past 72 hours so my brain was sorta shot, “The people that adopted me- well, the guy worked for The Heroes. So, I saw him at the company barbecues sometimes?”

My friends are looking like they don’t believe me, and I don’t blame them. In terms of transparent lies, that was fucking glass.   
“And have you seen any interviews with him? He called the President ‘his bro’. He’s not really the kind to make heartfelt confessions of his love. Also, him and The Sentinel together? That’s a bizarre pair.”

The looks turn contemplative as I pull up Iron Champion interviews on Youtube to prove my point. 

For the next few hours of the recording the four of us go through various stages of cramming, reading bad fanfiction (about me, which was Twilight Zone weird), and avoiding Bentley’s piercing gaze (Well, only I had to avoid it, but damn that Brit for being as perceptive as he is). 

(Transcription Ends)

~

I’ve decided to start labeling things as BS and AS just to help my filing on these reports. BS means Before Spidey (creative, I know), and AS is After Spidey, duh. I think that I need to start looking at events before and after Bloodworth’s spider attacked. It’s obvious that whoever is trying to kill me has been planning this for a while. So, this report is BS, the March before Spidey lost its head. 

I think some part of me knew that my friends were eventually going to find out about the fan fiction, but I definitely was not ready for it to happen when it did. Made obviously by my flimsy response to how exactly I knew Iron Champion. 

_(A fucking company barbecue? Jesus Christ, Murph.)_

In my defense, it is hard to explain to your friends that when you were younger, dumber, and a whole hell of a lot more awkward you dated the other child soldier in your social circle. God, the worst part is that dating isn’t even the right word for it. We made out a few times. That’s it. When you’re adopted at the ripe age of nine after seeing your parents die in front of you, and then go into superhero training that would make a Navy SEAL cry for the next ten years, it’s kind of hard to find people with similar life experience that are also your age. 

Iron Champion was the next closest thing. He was thirteen when he was recruited to be in The Heroes. I had been a minor member of the organization for four years at that point and was itching to get some field experience that wasn’t chasing down non-powered criminals in the underbelly of various cities. Champ, as he liked to be called, was aching to live out his lifelong dream of being Captain America or Superman or some shit like that with his impenetrable skin and slightly above average coordination. The introductions of one super dumb, super-powered teenager to another happened in a run of the mill conference room in Hero Tower

So that’s how two idiot thirteen-year-olds with god complexes and no other friends their age met. They went on to be super friends, and eventually super complicated more than friends. For the next six-ish years, I was the Number One of the Junior Hero Squad, and he was the Number Two. Eventually, we had more supers join our merry band of idiots, but the only two that are still around are Thunder Hawk and Deadnite.

We were close. There was no way we couldn’t be, we spent every waking hour together. Our rooms were close enough to each other that we used to yell goodnight through the cinder block walls. Unfortunately, that also meant that we could hear one another’s screams when the nightmares or phantom pains from countless injuries got a little too real in the dark. 

That’s how Champ and I got so close though. There was about a year after he joined that no one else was recruited, so it was just him and me. He had had a pretty normal life before The Heroes. Champ grew up in a small town in the midwest with both his parents and a dog. He went to school, played football, soccer, and lacrosse when he wasn’t out playing kick the can with the neighborhood kids. They found out that he had impenetrable skin after a car almost hit him one night when he was playing outside with the other kids from the block. Apparently, the guy was looking at his phone and didn’t see Champ as he ran across the road to win their game. All of a sudden, the car was totaled and Champ was standing in the middle of the wreck without a scratch on him. 

So during that year, everything about the hero game was all new and shiny to him. The nerd labs, the assignments, especially the press events. I liked it enough back then too, it was nice to be able to share the spotlight with someone who understood what it was like to be super. But at night, when the spotlight had dimmed, I realized I was all alone again. And when I was alone, it was impossible for me not to think of the things that had happened to me. The accident, the guilt of not being able to save my parents, the years I spent alone in the Tower (Strides and the other heroes were too busy saving the world to pay attention to a ten-year-old). 

Yes, Great Stride adopted me. But that doesn’t mean he should have. 

I am not ashamed to admit that most nights I cried myself to sleep. I was afraid of the dark. Especially of being alone in the dark. I had tried to keep it quiet, but after a few weeks of being in the Tower, Champ knocked on my door after lights out. He had heard me crying from the next room over. He didn’t say anything after I opened the door. Just wordlessly dragged his pillow and a blanket into the room and started arranging them on the rug. I stared at him like he was an alien that had just crash-landed in my room (to be fair, when I was that age, boys _were_ aliens to me). He only slid under his blanket and asked if I was going to close the door and go back to bed. I did, and that was the first night in a long time that I didn’t fall asleep terrified of being alone. 

God, that was depressing to write. 

Champ only did that a handful of times during the year when it was just the two of us. Every time he knocked though, it solidified the idea that I wasn’t alone. Not anymore. For that, I think I’ll always be grateful towards him. 

As we got older and gained some more members (and lost some) Champ stopped knocking on the door so that he could sleep on the rug. The others would have heard the noise. And he wasn’t sleeping on the rug anymore. Neither of us were really sleeping when he snuck in, and our teammates pretended not to notice the hickeys the next day. The mix of teenage angst, hormones, and stupidity created the perfect cocktail of bad choices. 

So, yeah, it’s kinda hard to explain to your friends just how you know Iron Champion when they don’t know you’re The Sentinel. 

On the bright side of lying to my friends about everything that makes me, me, if they ever find these reports, I’ll have a lot less explaining to do. 

[Report #4 Ends]


	5. Joshua Fucks Up My Advising Meeting

[Report #5 Joshua Fucks Up My Advising Meeting (AS)]

New Message November 3, 8:45 AM

From: m.zorrillo@barstoneu.edu

To:  c.murphy@barstoneu.edu  CC BC

Subject: Advising Meeting Reminder

Hello Charlotte, 

I hope this email finds you well. I wanted to remind you that we have a meeting this afternoon at 3:30 to discuss your classes for next semester. Please come prepared with a list of classes that you are planning to take that meet the requirements of your degree. I will see you this afternoon. Also, please check your registration date and time in your student account so you are properly prepared to sign up for classes. 

Megan Zorrillo

Political Sciences and International Relations 

~

**Charlie Leon** @c_lion_leon

Is anyone else at @BarUni having trouble registering for classes? Like, I’m okay with it but it's still weird. 

**Barstone Daily** @barstonedaily

BREAKING NEWS: Barstone University is currently the victim of a cyber attack from a sentient AI, updates hourly. 

**Derek Schist** @deathsparrow

Replying to @barstonedaily

TBH, not even surprised at this point #weirdtimesatbaru

**Georgia Lorenz** @gorilala 

Replying to @barstonedaily

Who had sentient AI cyber-terrorist attack on their bingo cards for this semester? I thought I won with genetically modified slug gets blown up #weirdtimesatbaru #bingo

**Beth Fontaine** @badfortune

Replying to @gorilala

I had @therealgreatstride comes for parents weekend

(tap to load picture)

(The picture in question shows a handmade bingo card with the spot “Great Stride comes to Parents Weekend” crossed out.)

**Greg Ghoost** @goghost

Replying to @barstonedaily

Yeah, quick question. Has anyone seen WarGames? How fucked are we? #JoshuatheWOPR #Shallweplayagame?

**Barstone University** @barstoneuni

Students, please do not open any suspicious emails and be aware of phishing scams. Click the (link) for more information about Barstone University’s action plan.

**Archie Thompson** @archthomp

Replying to @barstoneuni

Hmmmmm….. That sounds awfully…. phishy.

**Skyler Kit** @sisterkit 

Replying to @barstoneuni

I get that we are the victims of a cyberattack, but can we appreciate the commitment the fencing club has? Look at this girl go! #girlpower 

(tap to load image) 

(The picture in question is a blurry snapshot of me hauling ass towards the server building with my fencing bag. Not shown: Lightspawn, Greatsword of The Forgotten hidden in with my fencing foils.) 

**Belen Ortiz Soria** @thebeesnees89

Replying to @sisterkit

Hey @c.murph.its.ok this u? 

**Charlotte Murphy** @c.murph.its.ok

Replying to @thebeesnees and @sisterkit

Damn, look at me go 

~

New Message November 3, 5:27 PM

From: informationtechnology@TheTower.com

To:  thesentinel1@gmail.com  CC BC

Subject: You’re a fucking moron

Hey Sentinel. 

Long time no email, right. I just wanted to let you know how fucking stupid you are. Next time an AI attacks your campus’ servers, call me. It’s really not that hard, and it means that you don’t have to go all Kylo-Ren on millions of dollars worth of hardware. 

Good thing The Tower just made a  _ sizable _ donation to Barstone University’s Computer Sciences and Information Technology departments. 

Remember that not all problems can be solved by whipping out that sword of yours. 

XOXO, 

Gossip Girl

Information Technology Department 

From the desk of Deadnite

New Message November 3, 5:41 PM

From: thesentinel1@gmail.com

To:  informationtechology@TheTower.com CC BC

Subject: RE: You’re a fucking moron

Hey Deadnite, 

You weren’t picking up your phone, so I improvised. It worked, didn’t it? 

Quit being so mean to me :(

Have a great day!

The Sentinel

P.S. Missed you too, pal. 

~

If I’m being completely honest, I haven’t actually seen WarGames, so I was gonna connect my fun little AI attack to J.A.R.V.I.S. or Hal 9000. But after a little bit of review, and the fact that J names suck, I’m okay with calling this thing Joshua. 

But this whole situation was a huge mess. I was going through my advising meeting like usual, giving my advisor, Megan, the classes I wanted to take then trying not to cry as she completely restructured my degree for me. Then out of nowhere, her computer froze, and Joshua started listing his demands. I listened until he got to his ridiculous ransom amount before I made a flimsy excuse to leave. Megan was too distracted, panicking, and calling the Dean to really listen to me. I grabbed my fencing bag and started sprinting to the server building on campus. 

I think I might have called Deadnite about fourteen times in six minutes before I realized they weren’t going to pick up. 

Breaking into the server room was easier than it should have been, even with Joshua’s eerie mechanical voice repeating his demands through the speakers in the walls. 

Honestly, what was an AI going to do with that much money? Bet on online poker? 

Without any help from the Nerds, I decided to do what I do best. Hack and slash. I’m actually surprised it worked, though. Who knew that the easiest way to get rid of an AI committing a cyber-terrorist attack is to destroy servers that are worth more than your entire degree? Not me!

Luckily for me, the security feeds from the server room were supposed to be saved directly to the hardware in the room. And due to my little fight against Joshua, nothing was salvageable. (Though I think that was largely due to Deadnite covering my ass afterward.)

The real reason I decided to make a report about this incident other than the multitude of others that happened that semester was the conversation that I had with Belen, Luce, and Bents afterward. 

We were all in a coffee shop off campus discussing all the weird shit that had been happening on campus recently and I, as usual, was doing a shit job covering my ass. I may be an idiot, but I’m not entirely stupid. And not even I could miss the look that Bees and Luce gave to Bentley when they left the shop with some flimsy excuse about date night. 

Algerone nodded slightly at them as they left, and then he turned his piercing gaze on me. 

Thankfully, I managed to grab an audio recording of our conversation. 

~

(Transcription of conversation between The Sentinel and Algerone)

(Transcribed by The Sentinel) 

A quiet ambiance fills the background of the recording, full of sounds that you’d expect to hear in a coffee shop. Conversation, the occasional laugh, clinking of mugs, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. 

“So… Lottie. How have you been recently?” Al’s accented voice is clearly audible over the background noise. His words are awkward and slightly stumbling. 

“I’m fine, Voltzwagon. How have you been recently?” My reply is carefully noncommittal and bland, but it’s easy to tell that I am more than slightly suspicious of the question. 

“I’m good. Great. Grand, really.” His reply is too quick to be considered a whole truth, but Al has always been like this. Unable to start a significant conversation immediately. He has to let out his own awkwardness and anxiety before he can really start talking. 

“That’s good.”

There is a full minute and a half of silence on the recording before he starts speaking again. 

“Charlotte, I know you’ve gone through some stuff,” I try to interrupt him here, but he keeps going, “No, no. Please. Let me finish. I know you’ve gone through some stuff, and well, who hasn’t? And I think, no, I suspect that you might be going through some stuff now. Bees, Luce, and I all see it. And we get that if you had wanted to talk about it with us you would have already. So for some reason, I know you don’t  _ want _ to talk about it. But I - we, wanted to let you know that when you’re ready, well, we’re here for you.”

A shorter silence between us elapses. 

“Al… I, uh, I don’t know what to say-” My voice is soft and halting and  _ shaking _ . If you really listen, you can almost hear the sound of me holding back tears. 

“It’s alright. Like I said you don’t have to talk about it now, or ever if you want. But, we love you, Murph.  _ I _ love you. And I want you to know that you’re not alone. Not anymore. We don’t want you to feel like it’s you against the world, because it’s not. You’ve got us now and we’ve got you.” 

Another silent stretch happens, this one is almost five minutes long. The only sounds are the quiet cacophony of a coffee shop and  my someone's quiet sobs muffled as if whoever is crying has their face pressed into  Bentley’s someone else’s shoulder. 

(Transcription Ends)

~

It’s weird getting used to feeling not-alone. Sure, I used to know how it felt when my parents were still alive, and I thought I knew how it felt when Champ used to sleep on my rug. But, I think this was the moment that I actually  _ felt _ like I had people there who wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just not alone, but that I wasn’t  _ lonely _ . 

I know that the Junior Hero Squad would kill for me, and burn the world down if I ever had gotten killed or injured past the point of repair, they know that I would do the same for them. That I had done the same for them. It’s easy to mistake that feeling as not being lonely. But we also ignored each other’s exhaustion when our nightmares were too real to keep us asleep. We never mentioned not seeing someone for a few days after a mentally draining mission, when getting out of bed felt like the hardest task in the world. Overlooked tear-stained cheeks, and eyes swollen and red from crying. We turned a blind eye if someone had so much panic racing through them that the thought of fighting another day turned them into a shivering, rocking, hyperventilating mess in the corner. Because… well.

Because that’s what Great Stride taught us to do.

He told us that whoever was exhausted, unable to move, panicked, or any other side effect of our jobs just needed to “toughen up” and get used to what being a hero was all about. 

But being not-alone is weird. And I’m not quite sure what it feels like. All I know is that it feels better than what being alone felt like. 

It’s… strange having people that want you to live, not just survive. 

[Report #5 Ends]


	6. Barbecue Buddies

[Report #6 Barbecue Buddies]

**Relationship Advice**

r/relationship_advice

Posted by u/throwra_barbecuebuddies 18 hours ago

**My ex boyfriend/best friend (21M) showed up at my (21F) house this morning and wanted to talk, now I need to face some unresolved issues.**

This is a throwaway account, just in case my friends find this post on here. This is also going to take some explaining because… well it’s complicated. So I kind of grew up in the lime-light because of some situations regarding who adopted me and a particular set of skills that I had. Anyways, because of this, it was hard to meet people my age. Then when I was about 13, I started getting really close to this guy who was my age (I’ll call him B1). Because of the… circumstances we were both in we spent a lot of time together. So with us being hormonal teenagers, hanging out became making out, and making out became, well. I think you can guess. We were really close friends along with all of this, and neither of us specifically said we were dating but we also weren’t seeing anyone else (because of our situation). Also, B1 and I didn’t really talk in general. We don’t have a lot in common with each other, and we really only talked about our… circumstances. We had other friends that were in the same situation as we were, so we weren’t the only two (this is important for later). This kind of relationship went on for about six years. I eventually was able to leave the situation I was in, and start going to college. I admit though that the way I left was… shitty. I pretty much disappeared in the middle of the night, with only a note telling everyone where I’d gone.

Flash forward two years, I’m in college and I’m friends with (and like like) this new guy (21M and we’ll call him B2). I have had some contact with some of my friends from Before. But I’ve gone no contact with B1 in the two years since I’ve been gone (I haven’t reached out to him, and he hasn’t reached out to me). The new friends, well more like family (including B2), that I have made at school only know that I was adopted and I don’t really get along with my adoptive “family” that much. It’s just something that I really don’t like to talk about, and I have some secrets that they _can’t_ know. So down to the issue here, my friends and I were having brunch at my house when B1 showed up on my doorstep without any notice and a bouquet of (really nice) flowers. 

He told me that he wanted to talk, and here I got a little petty and said that talking was never something we were actually good at. Meanwhile, my friends are sitting in my living room drinking mimosas trying to figure out who B1 is. Now, I can’t explain who he is to my friends without telling them some serious secrets that I’m not ready to share yet, and I really don’t want to listen to what B1 wants to say because I’m pretty sure that he is going to try and convince me to go back to the situation that I intentionally left so I could be a mentally and physically healthy, happy, functioning human for once (and I’m about 90% sure that my adoptive “dad” sent him). The best thing I’ve ever done is leave that place, and I can’t go back. But I really don’t want to explain what’s going on to my friends because, well, I don't want them to start looking at me differently. 

So my question is, what should I do? Listen to B1, and risk him guilt tripping me to go back? Or tell my friends about my not-so-great past and therefore who I really am, and risk the relationships I’ve made? SOS

EDIT: No I wasn’t in some weird sex cult thing, please stop making those comments. They’re not actually answering my question.   
  


**Cornygirlie234** 4 hours ago

You need to talk to your friends about your past. You say that they are like family to you, and if they are, you should trust them enough to tell them who you are. If they think of you any differently, then they weren’t your friends to begin with. I think if you tell them, the issue with B1 will solve itself. You can talk to him and hear what he has to say then kindly ask him to leave. 

**Baboobabeey** 4 hours ago

^^^^^ They are so on it, especially with the friends. But I do think it’s weird that B1 

showed up after going no contact for two years. Also, it seems to me that you and B1 weren’t actually dating. Like sure you made out and had sex and whatever, but were you there emotionally for one another? That’s a real hallmark of being in a relationship. Does B2 treat you better, OP? If he’s like family to you, I sure hope he does. 

**Chartrusepenguin576** 6 hours ago

I know you didn’t mention them for a specific reason, but I can’t help wonder about the circumstances of your childhood. They sound kind of sus if I’m being honest. Like I don’t want to say it but this sounds like a fake post. 

**Artieartieartie_oioioi** 2 hours ago

You should listen to what B1 has to say, then tell your friends he’s your ex and it's complicated. If they respect you, they’ll leave it at that. Everyone has secrets that they don’t want to tell, especially if it brings up bad memories. 

**Skigurl4000** 1 hour ago

Idk, man. It sounds like you should run off and not talk to any of your new friends for two years, and wait for B2 to show up on your doorstep with flowers asking to talk. 

~

Barstone Daily

**Don’t Doubt The Dynamic Duo!**

Published 7 hours ago

They’re back and better than ever, everyone! The Sentinel and the Iron Champion were seen earlier today fighting the supervillain Eclipse in nearby Hillford. Eclipse had kidnapped several school children, and for a ransom, demanded several million dollars along with a private jet to get the villain out of the country. However, these demands were not met as Iron Champion and The Sentinel came to the rescue. There were no casualties in the scuffle, and Eclipse was taken into custody. After they made sure that everyone was alright, The Sentinel pulled Iron Champion away from the press, insisting that they had to debrief with The Tower. After her retirement announcement two years ago, the public thought that The Sentinel was out of the hero game for good! But the increasing number of attacks in Barstone must have brought her back. I know I speak for everyone when I say I hope that this is not the last we see of the most super-powered couple around. (Click for more)

~

Well, talk about a shit show. 

When Champ showed up on my doorstep like a lost puppy, I could have (and would have) killed him. The only thing genuinely stopping me was having to explain to my friends (who were getting efficiently day-drunk on the couch) how I knew how to kill someone and get rid of the body without alerting the police. And if I’m being honest, no amount of true crime podcasts or cold case TV can really teach you how to do that. So, there goes that alibi. 

I pushed Champ out of the doorway, onto the porch, and stepped after him. I felt the frame shudder when I slammed the door closed behind us. I could feel Bentley, Belen, and Luce’s stares pinned to the back of my head through the window as I tried to get Champ off my porch and out of my life for good. 

How dare he? I kept asking myself. I keep asking myself. 

Before I could go off on him, his phone pinged with a nearby threat alert. I can honestly say that I have never been so thankful for a supervillain to show up. And, I have never been so completely furious at myself for having such a bad case of hero syndrome. 

Did I need to run off after Eclipse? Absolutely not. The Iron Champion was there, he could have taken care of the situation easily. 

Did I run off after her anyways? Of course I fucking I did. Because I am an idiot that only strives to make my life harder. 

So, before Champ could save the day alone, I told my friends that he was a childhood friend in town to surprise me (not completely a lie) and we were going to go grab some coffee (definitely a lie). I wish I hadn’t seen Bentley’s face before I closed the door. I don’t know exactly what he was thinking, but from the mix of confusion and dejection on his face, it couldn’t have been anything good. 

It was easy to clean up Eclipse’s mess, especially with all the resources that come with The Tower’s deep pockets. And I was going to admit that it was nice having someone watch your back but that was before Champ asked if we could still go get coffee now that we were finished. 

“That wasn’t a real offer, Champ,” I replied dismissively, ignoring the pleading look on his face. “It was an excuse to my friends. Nothing else.”

“Junior, please. I need to talk to you.” He reached out like he was going to grab me, but stopped when I took a step away from him. 

“Don’t call me that. Anything you needed to tell me could have been sent in an email. There’s a reason why I haven’t spoken to any of you since I’ve left.”

“Do you want me to call you Charlotte? Would that make it easier?” God, he sounded so earnest, “Please, this isn’t the kind of stuff that I could have sent in an email.”

I was quiet for a long moment. Weighing my options. Say yes, and learn something that I probably could have lived the rest of my life easier not knowing. Say no, and peacefully try to retire once again and hope this information would not come back to bite me in the ass. 

“Fine. You get one cup of coffee. And if I don’t like _anything_ I hear, I get to leave. _Without_ you following me.” I was expecting him to be ecstatic, or at least happy that I had chosen to listen to him. But he wasn’t either. He was relieved. Which worried me all the more. 

We made it to a nearby coffee shop, and after ordering settled into a quiet booth. Then Champ told me something that made me go through the five stages of grief in such quick succession that my ears rang and my hands shook. 

Champ, Hawke, and Deadnite had found concrete evidence that Dr. Bloodworth was still alive (which I could have told them, between McSlugface and Spidey). But the thing that made my gut plunge and dried my mouth was that there was reliable intel that Bloodworth was working with Great Stride and that they had been working together for a while. 

I wasn’t shocked. I was too numb to feel anything. The buzzing in my head drowned out the quiet ambiance of the coffee shop, and my palms were sweating. 

I knew what panic could do to me, and if I didn’t come up with something to distract myself from the fact that Great Stride was literally working with someone who has tried to kill me multiple times, I was going to lose my cool right in the middle of my favorite cafe. I took a deep breath. Another. And again. I put my hands on my lap so Champ couldn’t see them trembling. I needed Champ gone. He had risked enough to tell me what Great Stride was up to. I guess this was the one thing that you couldn’t put in an email. 

“Champ, you need to go back to The Tower,” I said, proud that only a slight tremble betrayed what I was feeling.

“No, Charlotte. We need to do something about this. He betrayed us. He betrayed _you._ ” He was getting that determined set to his brows, and his eyes narrowed like he was trying to find the solution in the air between us. 

“Great Stride can’t know we’re on to him. Not until we know more and have a plan. So you need to go back to The Tower and act like nothing is wrong. Between you, me, Hawks, and Deadnite we can figure out a plan.” He opened his mouth like he was going to argue more with me, but I didn’t have time for his hero complex while I was still dealing with mine, “Go home Champ. Seriously. Ask Deadnite if they can set up a secure way for us to communicate so you don’t have to keep coming back to Barstone.” 

He agreed, but only after I pinned him with another glare. As he finally left, his promises to talk to the others went without reply. I pressed my sweaty shaking hands on the cool table in front of me, ignoring my still-hot coffee. The panic was creeping ever closer in my erratic heartbeat and dry mouth. A plan. I needed a plan.

So I thought of one. I don’t know how long it took to create it, but the table had grown warm under my hands, the coffee in my cup had gone cold, and I had a daunting amount of unread messages from my friends.

The idea itself was simple enough. But for it to work, a key component, a dreaded component, as needed. 

I had to tell Luce, Belen, and Bentley who I really was. I hated that I needed their help to take Great Stride down, it was dangerous, but the only thing that I thought was more dangerous was not telling them what I was planning. They needed to be careful. Alert. And knew that I would need their support. 

Also, the guilt of waiting this long to tell them was eating me alive. I had learned many things since leaving The Tower, and one of the most important lessons was that communicating, _really_ communicating with my family was the only way that I would get through this. 

But holy fuck. I was terrified. Scared shitless that my friends would feel betrayed and angry by what I hadn’t told them. That they would push me away. That again I would be alone. 

Great Stride taught me how to face fear, how to overcome what I was too terrified to put into words, but this was different. I didn’t care about my life then. I didn’t care if I was miserable. But I had seen the greener pastures. I knew what it was like to really truly love and be loved. And if I lost that love because of not only something that I had done but who I was. I didn’t think that I would have the strength to do what I needed to do after a loss like that. 

So I made a deal with myself. I let that fear paralyze me. I rolled it’s bitter taste over my tongue, and I swallowed it, letting it upset my stomach. I felt its razor-like teeth trying to eat me bit by bit. But I wouldn’t let it consume me. I set a timer and sat with my fear for twenty minutes. but even when my time was up and I finally stood to leave that little cafe, its acrid aftertaste stuck to the back of my tongue. 

I took a gulp of coffee turned frigid and sent a text message.

~

Shake that ASS or kick ROCKS

(27 Unread Messages)

**Me**

Hey guys. I’m sorry I went radio silent, 

I was catching up with Champ. 

If you guys are free, do you mind meeting

me at the house?

I have some intel I need to relay. 

**Algerone Bentley (Not the car??)**

Intel? What are you a spy??

I’ve got rugby, but I can meet after.

Give me an hour. 

**Lucky Lucy <3**

Belen and I are free all night.

**Me**

Okay, rendezvous in an hour. 

~

Presentation by Charlotte Murphy

**You know how my “Dad” is Great Stride? Well it gets worse.**

**A presentation on some things I need to tell you.**

**(Also. Sorry in advance.)**

[Report #6 Ends]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!  
> Thank you so much for reading! Any comments are welcome, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
